


Lending a Hand

by kattahj



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, F/M, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-15
Updated: 2002-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-08 15:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattahj/pseuds/kattahj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aragorn and Gandalf realize what their patients need. Pippin takes the cure a bit further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lending a Hand

”Well, he is certainly doing a lot better,” Aragorn said, leaning down to examine the sleeping Faramir. ”Still I cannot help but think I have missed something that would make him recover quicker.”  
He took the young steward’s hand in his to check the pulse, but as soon as he let go, Faramir curled up against the wall again without even waking up. Aragorn’s eyebrows flew up. ”Strange, it is almost as if he yearned for something on the other side of the wall.”

”What is so strange about that?” Gandalf asked, standing in the doorway. 

Aragorn gave Gandalf a puzzled glance that soon changed into amazement. ”Eowyn?” The wizard smiled. It was a nearly unnoticeable smile, but to Aragorn’s knowing eyes the mischief in it was obvious, and he found himself smiling back.

”Ioreth will return in the morning, but until then I am still their physician -- and I must do what is best for my patients, right?” Aragorn walked past the wizard and into the room where Eowyn was sleeping. She, too, was curled up against the wall, and didn’t even move when he entered her room. It seemed her sleeping body had gotten over her love for him a lot quicker than her mind would. That surprised him more than Faramir’s reaction had, but it also gladdened him, because he had felt guilty about the entire situation, even though it was in no way his fault.

”You royal highness,” he mumbled, leaning down to lift up the princess. When he started to carry her off, she opened her grey eyes, too drowsy to protest.

”My King... where are you taking me?” she asked. 

”Just to the next room,” he assured her, without telling her just why this seemed like such a good idea. She leaned back in his arms, entirely trusting, as if she had been a lighthearted girl instead of the strongwilled young woman who had killed a nazgûl with a strike of her sword. When he put her down on Faramir’s large bed she rolled over on her side and fell asleep without questions, and for the first time that night, Faramir turned away from the wall and put an arm around her.

”I have been waiting for you,” he mumbled with a pleased smile, and there were roses on his cheeks that didn’t owe their presence to the athelas herb.

Aragorn and Gandalf left the room, and Aragorn gave a grimace that made Gandalf laugh. The laughter was contagious, and although Aragorn hushed for Gandalf to be quiet, he had to laugh himself. ”What a sight! I have no idea how to explain this to Ioreth in the morning. Do you think she would find it unseemly?”

”I have a feeling she would think it romantic,” Gandalf replied. ”But we really do need to get the princess back to her own room before morning, or the two of them will most likely feel embarrassed when they wake up.”

”I suppose,” Aragorn said with a sigh. ”Still, a few hours of closeness will do them good.” He passed by another room and shook his head at the thought of the patient in there. ”I only wish we could do the same for Merry. He was almost back to his old self this evening, so I have no doubt the athelas will suffice, but he deserves a bit of comfort after everything he has been through.” He shrugged. ”But there is no use wishing for the impossible.”

”I would not call it impossible,” Gandalf said, turning towards the window. ”In fact, I do believe the answer to your wish is right down in the courtyard.”

Aragorn, naturally, moved up beside him to have a look for himself. The courtyard was covered in darkness, and he could barely make out the guards, but even in starlight he saw that one of them was considerably shorter than the others. ”Surely you cannot mean...?”

But of course that was exactly what Gandalf meant, and Aragorn found himself wondering why the thought didn’t come as naturally to him. He had seen Merry’s condition when he had first been brought in, and Aragorn knew it would have been even worse if Pippin hadn’t been the one to first find him. Those two cared for each other, and there was more to their relationship than being the only two halflings in a town full of humans. Pippin had bonded with a *ten-year-old* to have someone his own size -- but Bergil could never catch his gaze the way Merry did. If Aragorn told Pippin that spending the night with Merry would make his friend better, he would. If he told him eating nails and shards of glass would make Merry better, he probably would have. And of course that was what made Aragorn feel uncomfortable. This was all a lot more serious than the little plotting they had done with Faramir and Eowyn.

”I will ask him, then,” he said, proceeding down the corridors. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pippin wasn’t sure what exactly Aragorn expected him to do, but that mattered little, since only his sense of duty kept him away from Merry’s side. Because he wanted to leave so much, he had stayed on guard, making a virtue out of denying himself his wishes. He had a duty to Gondor, even if there was currently no steward in charge. But Aragorn was more than a steward, Aragorn was the king, and he had told Pippin that Merry would be helped by having him there, so there he was. The only chair in the room was wooden and uncomfortable, but Pippin sat down, willing to stay there all night if needed. He reached out over the giant bed for Merry’s hand, which had started to warm up again, and the sleeping hobbit turned to face him in his sleep. Aragorn started to leave, but stopped in his strides and gave Pippin a peculiar look.

”You know... it would be warmer for you if you crept down beside him,” Aragorn said. Almost in defence, he added, ”The bed is big enough, it will be no closer than you have already been on the road.”

Pippin nodded and unbuttoned his jacket. He folded his uniform on the chair a lot neater than he would his normal clothes, since it was still new and he didn’t want to rumple it. As he lifted the blankets to join Merry in the bed, Aragorn smiled and nodded farewell. The shadows from his lamp made it look as if he winked. Before Pippin could take a second look, Aragorn had closed the door and disappeared.

The bed was heaven to Pippin, who had come straight from the outside and was cold everywhere. Merry didn’t wake up when icy feet touched his, and Pippin snuggled closer. He knew this wasn’t meant to be for his pleasure, but it was nevertheless. Merry hadn’t washed since before the battle, and his hair was dirty, but it smelled just like it had when they were boys. He had always loved smelling Merry’s hair, even though it always started with Merry wrestling him down and filling his shirt with mud or snow. Back then, the six years between them had been too much for Merry to admit that he enjoyed the presence of a baby like Pippin. Things had certainly changed since then. Unfortunately, not all changes had been approved by others. Now, without the suspecting eyes of friends and family, Pippin placed a soft kiss on Merry’s lips and fell asleep.

A moan woke him up again what seemed to be moments later, although judging from the night sky it was hours. His first thought was that Merry had taken a turn to the worse, and his heart skipped a beat, but a closer look calmed him down again. Merry was simply aroused, but his hand was not yet fully functional and he had trouble getting to his cock. Judging by the confused look on his drowsy face, he didn’t understand why, and Pippin had to grin.

”Here now, Merry old boy,” he mumbled into Merry’s ear. ”I will help you out.” 

He started to take off Merry’s belt, feeling a bit funny, although Merry was still mostly sleeping and seemed to find this the most natural thing in the world. They had done favours like these for each other before, as boys, but not since one of their common aunts had found them in an awkward situation and dragged them away in their ears. She had quite a pinch for an old woman.

It was a good thing Merry was already half undressed, since Pippin wasn’t too familiar with Rohirrim uniforms. As it was, he simply eased his hand in between the shirt and the pants. Merry’s cock felt larger than it used to all those years ago. Maybe it wasn’t really, though. Pippin had missed Merry so much, dreaming and longing for him during their time apart, he could be imagining it. He started moving carefully with his thumb and two fingers and noticed with pleasure how Merry’s breathing changed.

”I take it you enjoy yourself?” he whispered. 

There was a low laughter from the pillow as Merry opened his eyes and reached out with his left hand to grab Pippin’s hair. ”Big boys do *not*...”

”Do that sort of thing,” Pippin filled in. ”Should I stop?” 

”Should I kill you?” Merry asked, letting his hand slide down Pippin’s neck towards his shirt. Pippin took this as an encouragement to start working with his entire fist, and this efficiently put a stop to the conversation. Not that it truly silenced Merry. He had the most charming repertoire of pleased noises, and Pippin tried different moves to see if he could find any new noises. That little half-choked squeak wasn’t really anything he had heard before. He made a mental note to remember that rubbing the tip of Merry’s cock would have this effect. Pippin found that combinations had the greatest effect. If he kept stroking Merry while also nibbling at his earlobes, he was rewarded with something that sounded remarkably like a very small lamb. And then, ah yes, there was that very small sigh that meant contentment.

Once Merry’s little noises had ceased, Pippin cuddled down next to him again. Neither of them were inclined towards poetry, and the only way they had to tell their heart’s desire was by teasing each other. ”Now, that was nice.”

Merry sat up straight so quickly it clearly he showed he was getting better. ”You’re just going to sleep?”

”Why, do you need more help?” Pippin asked, watching Merry between eyelashes. It really wasn’t all that different than mud in your shirt. The challenge remained.

”No, I just thought you might.” 

”I’m fine.” Pippin lay back, knowing full well what Merry’s reply would be, and true enough, soon a hand tugged at his clothing. Although Merry still had trouble using his right hand, and was as fumbly with his left as most right-handed people are, he managed well when using both. Pippin had been telling the truth when he said he was fine, but at Merry’s touch he began to squirm in delight. He had never been as vocal as Merry, but he had a hard time remembering to breathe. It struck him during his final gasps that they weren’t quite playing by their old rules. Taking care of each other’s erections was all right, but creating them in the first place had never been part of the game. Not that he was complaining. He had gone without far too long, and for no good reason, either. Merry liked this just as much as he did.

”Pippin?” Merry asked eventually. 

”Mhm...” 

”Why don’t big boys do that sort of thing?” 

”Because aunt Juniper dragged us all the way...” Pippin yawned. Satisfaction made him terribly sleepy.

”I know that,” Merry said, gently undoing Pippin’s shirt. The buttons were so small it was easier said than done. ”But since when do we ever do what people tell us?”

”True enough...” Pippin didn’t bother with buttons, he just lifted up Merry’s shirt enough to get his hands around that chubby stomach, running his still sticky fingers through the curls of hair.

”You know what else is funny?” 

”What?” Pippin asked. He was definitely falling asleep now, and almost irritated at Merry’s sudden alertness.

”I could have sworn that you are larger than you used to be.” 

”You too...” 

Merry lay thinking about that for a while and then sniggered. ”It’s the ent water, isn’t it!?” Pippin didn’t answer, and Merry wrapped his arms around him, feeling protective of the younger hobbit. ”This is almost cradle-robbing,” he muttered, although he was much too pleased to really feel guilty. ”You’re still a child after all.”

” ’M not.” 

Merry was surprised to find that Pippin actually was awake, and teased him a little to keep it so. ”How many years are you now, Pip? Twentynine? Goodness, you’re a bairn!”

Pippin buried his head deeper under the blankets and pushed his nose against Merry’s armpit. In a perfect world, he would lie like this all his life. ”Keep quiet and let me sleep.”

”Now, that is no way to treat a convalescent lover,” Merry chided him, but Pippin just huffed and ran his mouth over Merry’s neck, sending chills to his spine. Unfortunately, it didn’t lead to anything else. Moments later, Pippin started snoring.

”If that’s how you like it,” Merry whispered, gently stroking Pippin’s hair away from his face. His arm was waking up and felt as if pricked with thousands of tiny needles, but behind that there was the sensation of Pippin’s skin against his, and he couldn’t believe he had ever given that up. Not for anything in the world would he do it again, much less for cranky relatives. They had faced mortal danger, together and apart, seeing things that would make Shire people die of fright. The future was still unknown, and it was quite possible that they would be dead by this time tomorrow. If Aragorn hadn’t healed him, he would have been dead already. That wasn’t a pleasant thought, but it wasn’t what made his stomach turn either. Not compared to knowing that if he had died today, he would never have been able to hold Pippin like this. All this time lost, just for the benefit of some stupid, opinionated old hobbits. Well, it wouldn’t happen again. Not ever. He held his lover close, and although he had cried hard from the fall of the nazgûl to the point where he had been too lost in the shadows to know the difference, he had enough tears to start crying again. He cried harder than before, and yet it didn’t hurt like it had before. On the contrary, it was a pleasure almost as strong as the release before. Pippin was in his arms now. He would bloody well stay there.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the come of dawn, Aragorn moved Eowyn back to her own bed, and although she woke up, she seemed too preoccupied with the fact that he was carrying her to notice where he was carrying her from. She had insisted that she could walk on her own, and once they were back in her room she fell into bed without any questions. Aragorn was entirely grateful. On his way back, he decided to have a look at Merry’s condition as well.

He stopped in the doorway, contemplating what he saw for a moment before he realised that in case anyone came by, the view perhaps ought not to be exposed. He took a step inside and shut the door quietly. In all fairness, he should leave as well, but he just couldn’t help himself.

Pippin’s head was buried on Merry’s shoulder, so his face was hidden from sight, but even his back looked happy, which was especially clear since it wasn’t covered in any clothing. Merry’s mouth touched his ear and the two hobbits hugged each other so close well-built horses might not break them apart. They were unbelievably endearing.

Aragorn hesitated. Reasonably, he should wake them and set them apart, to save them an awkward moment later. But of course, all that would mean was an awkward moment now, and they both looked more peaceful than he had ever seen them. He would hate to be the one to break up that. So instead of moving closer he retreated back to the door, shutting it behind him on his way back out in the corridor. He shook his head.

”I *really* have no idea how to explain this to Ioreth.”


End file.
